


Evermore

by bluebirdling



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Based on a Taylor Swift Song, Coney Island, Evermore - Freeform, F/M, Feels, Freeform, Gold Rush, Mutual Pining, Or Three, evermore x jily, taylor x jily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:28:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28931757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebirdling/pseuds/bluebirdling
Summary: They're both in love amidst a war.He's sure he'll never win her over and she's sure she's lost her chance.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter
Comments: 16
Kudos: 36





	Evermore

**Author's Note:**

> The ficlet 'gold rush' blew up on tumblr and I really couldn't NOT continue it. Of course, they're all inspired by my queen, each part from the evermore album.
> 
> This is also a farewell gift to each and every member of the jily discord. You’ve created such a wonderful place for us all, and we’re forever grateful for that. 
> 
> A special shoutout to Liz (@zephyrcove) for being a brilliant star and beta, looking over this fic and noting the little mistakes with her keen eye. Thank you so much, love.

**gold rush**

James was in love.

The kind of love that would make you stay up past two am, do the stupidest things and make a fool of yourself, and play love songs on repeat. 

But he didn’t _want_ to be in love.

He didn’t want to have every goddamn thought to be of her. He didn’t want to find his cheeks aflame when their hands brushed. He didn’t want to rant about her when he found himself in a drunken stupor amongst his friends. He didn’t want to have to memorise her schedule. He didn’t want to know her favourite colour, food, and candy. He didn’t want to hang mistletoes around the common room or stand near her during the new year countdown in the hopes of something he knew would never be granted.

Anyone would love to know what it was like to love Lily Evans. A fleeting glance, a slow motion that lasted forever, and yet was over in the blink of an eye.

But he could guarantee it wasn’t something anyone wanted to go through.

Falling in love with her was like the feeling of flying, until the bones crashed on the ground. A rush at the beginning, dragging on for years in between, ending on a high note but shattered like fragile glass. Noting the splash of red when entering a room, or the many shades of green when he stared into her eyes. 

Remembering the colour of the muggle t-shirt she wore to his Quidditch matches and her version of the Amortentia smell, the one she’d told the class when the professor prompted her to. He’d tried to forget that one of them had been the smell of his toothpaste. 

She was _lethal_. She could tear anyone to shreds with a few well placed words. And no one would dare to toe the line with her.

Except him, that is.

Calling her out on her contrarian shit. Defying her smallest wishes. Testing her patience. Smirking the way he knew angered her and running his hands through his hair just to see her jaw clench.

He was _whipped_.

Loving a girl he knew would never love him back.

It was as inviting as the cool, blue waters of a calm ocean.

So inviting, he almost jumps in.

But it had to stop. He couldn’t dare to dream about her anymore.

Not when the love was unrequited. 

Not when he knew it would be his destruction.

So he leaves the whirlwind of emotions behind, convincing himself that she is just another girl.

* * *

**coney island**

Lily still remembers the moment so vividly it plays out in her mind over and over again, excruciatingly detailed, every time she closes her eyes. 

She’d know his feelings. She’d know hers too. 

The ball had been in her court, and she’d knocked it out of the park. 

And now, sitting on this bench in the hazy beginnings of the October cold, she has no one to blame but herself. 

It had been the last day of seventh year, goodbyes and promises to meet up ringing in the smoky scarlet air of the train. He’d slanted one of his cocky smiles at her, lips perking up at the corners like they always did. 

She didn’t know why he chose that moment to make a move. 

It had been barely comprehensible to anyone that happened to look over at them, a hand tentatively and hesitantly sliding into her own, a question in those brilliant hazel eyes, a tilt of the head. 

She wanted to lean forward and brush her lips against his, or squeeze his hand in return. Merlin, she wanted to—so very, _very_ badly. 

Instead, she offered an apologetic smile that barely reached her eyes. 

Disappointment shone in his eyes and her heart broke. 

That had been their last interaction. 

The hours since then had slipped into days. And the days into months. Too much training and too little sleep filled the summer holidays. Her dates with her friends in the muggle cafes, fleeting, comes and goes. Mission papers soon start to cover every inch of the coffee table in her flat. 

If she isn’t on a mission, she’s planning one. Either that, or she’s at the training centre, shouts of ‘ _constant vigilance’_ ringing in her ears. 

They’re in the middle of a war, and she really shouldn’t have the time to think about the bespectacled boy with the messy hair and that infatuating jaw clench. 

But, by some utter miracle, she finds the time to let her mind wander off towards him, and she positively _hates_ every moment of it. 

The thoughts are always accompanied by a sense of longing and, by no permission of her own, regret. 

The question pounds in her head—what could have been?

What if she had said yes?

She wonders if James misses the rogue who coaxed him into paradise and left him there. 

She’d lead him on. She wanted him and he wanted her too. The only thing that had stood between them had been her stupid pride and her senseless fear. 

_Would he take her if she asked now?_

She supposes not. 

Though, he may forgive her just yet, because that’s who he just was. 

He’d been a pain in the arse all their years at school but he’d been there for her when she needed him the most. He’d been one of the few things that kept her _sane_. 

He’d been her centrefold. 

Hogwarts had been a safe space for them. The mischief-filled classes and gift-wrapped dreams. 

But, now, there was the possibility of death. A chance of never seeing each other ever again. 

She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she never confronted him. He deserved to know. 

_Had he been waiting for her letter since school was over?_

_Did he ever anticipate running into her in the Order’s headquarters?_

_Did she really leave him hanging, every single day, all this time?_

She brushed off the questions, marching on with her life, ignoring the strings pulling at her heart to bloody _do_ something about it. 

And then she’d been sent on a raid to Malfoy Manor, dodged the killing curse, but just _barely._

The sight that had flashed before her eyes had been his face. Mirth lining his hazel irises, lips stretched into an incorrigible grin, a strip of teeth flashing, dark locks as messy as ever. 

Then, a moment later, the disappointment from that day on the train spread across his features. 

But she’d escaped. She was alive, here, in flesh and blood.

Shaking the memory off, she stands up, heeled boots clacking on the pavement as a plan forms in her mind. She doesn’t know where he is. But she knows someone who does. 

And she’s going to find and tell him. Maybe snog him a bit afterwards. 

She’s getting the ball back, and she’s rolling it right into his court with her own hand. 

* * *

**evermore**

A month more. 

Then it’ll all be over. 

The mission will end and she can knock on the wooden door to their flat and be enveloped in his warm embrace. 

Their first few weeks apart are nearly unbearable, sending each other patronuses for comfort. She writes several letters—all addressed to the fire—simply because she can’t find the words. 

Then James goes on his mission, and the last thing she heard from his white stag were those three wonderful words. Except, she never gets to say them back. 

She pinches herself several times to make sure she isn’t in some fantasy daydream, out of her reach. 

That bloody _bastard._

Using the excuse of the mission to escape her reply. 

In spite of herself, she smiles. 

It _does_ seem like something he’d do.

There had been so many times she’d forgotten exactly what she was fighting for. He'd been there to remind her, every single time. 

She wishes she can rewind the tape, pause at the special moments and relive them.

What will be the cost they will suffer through? What will be lost in the war? 

She _has_ to believe they’ll live through it all. 

The memories are real enough to get her through. 

She imagines her breath catching, the floors creaking under her steps as she hurls herself towards him. 

She’ll see him soon enough, though. The time between now and then will be painful. 

But the pain won’t be for evermore.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me at @bluebirdlinginthenest?


End file.
